


Things you got me doing

by Baryshnikov



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asexual Tom, Finally have to admit to myself this doesn't have a plot, M/M, Manipulative Lestrange Sr., Manipulative Tom Riddle, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:32:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15252465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baryshnikov/pseuds/Baryshnikov
Summary: Abraxas knows he shouldn't know, or for that matter care, what Tom does with Lestrange, but he does, he really does, and it's consuming him.





	1. I see the things you do

Abraxas knew he shouldn’t know, but if they would parade it so obviously, how could he help but know. On a second consideration, Abraxas decided that it wasn’t actually that obvious, at least not to those who didn’t have such a vested interest in the lives of Riddle and Lestrange.  
It had started when Lestrange took the place that Avery usually occupied. The one beside Tom on the sofa, where they were close enough to touch. The first time, he took little notice, occasionally they changed places and Lestrange had always been closer to Tom. They sat next to one another in nearly all their classes, shared study time, read far beyond the confines of the syllabus together and, stayed behind after class to ask complicated questions about things Abraxas would never understand. It was therefore only natural they should want to sit together now.  
It was not natural however that they should want to sit together every day. The others were too oblivious, too caught up in their petty rivalries and childish conversations to notice, but Abraxas caught to the touches. Hands brushing past each other. Lestrange handing Tom a book, his hand lingering at Tom’s for too long. The way their eyes met whenever the other entered the room. Anyone who couldn’t see it was blind, anyone who couldn’t feel the intensity in the room; that powerful sensation, that energy between the two of them, was stupid. The air changed when they were together, it became heavy with a desire that permeated until Abraxas felt he was suffocating in it.  
Usually, Tom hated to be touched, keeping a firm radius between himself and them. However, recently Lestrange had been encroaching on it. Slithering into the empty space, like the snake he was. His legs would brush against Tom’s and Tom would look up and there would be no rebuke, only a soft smile and Tom wouldn’t move his legs.   
It was also obvious they were trying to keep it a secret. Lestrange would only let his eyes remain on Tom’s lips for so long. His hand would rest on Tom’s shoulders for just a moment and then it would be gone, and Lestrange would look around to see if anyone saw his dirty secret.  
~  
Initially, Abraxas didn’t know what to feel. He tried to pretend that maybe it wasn’t what he thought it might be. He’d never liked Lestrange, he was too smooth, silky, sweet on top and sour underneath. He was everything you’d expect a Slytherin to be and really didn’t care what other people thought of him. Yet, despite his dislike, there was something about Lestrange: maybe it was the way he swept his hand through his hair, or that charming smile, or the dangerous flicker in his face whenever he saw something he liked, something he wanted to take a bite out of. Despite his distinguished upbringing, there was a feral quality to him, something dark and unrefined, coarse and raw that drove Abraxas to distraction. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want Lestrange’s fingers pressing a little too hard against his neck, forcing the line between fantasy and reality to be blurred and to go further than he should until Abraxas was choking and desperate. Abraxas, deep in his stomach, wanted Lestrange’s teeth at his neck and his nails scratching patterns into his stomach. He wanted to be fucked into the bed, Lestrange’s hands pulling his hair, lips leaving dirty little marks all over his neck. All the time taking from Abraxas, and never giving back because he was a selfish bastard and Abraxas was in the mood to be used. But that was a very deep thought, mostly Lestrange’s cut dry humour and subtle viciousness irritated him and he didn’t want that to touch Tom.   
Abraxas knew he had no right to claim Tom as his own, but that didn’t stop him thinking about it. Tom was beautiful, everyone knew that. He had an elegance about him, learned though, not natural, occasionally, if he listened close enough it was possible to hear the crudeness and unpolished reality that Tom had done his best to eradicate. It usually appeared in the pronunciation of certain words, Tom was less clipped, less refined than the rest of them. But that just made him more genuine, an authentic rarity in an artificial world. Abraxas would never tell anyone how much he wanted Tom. He wanted him in a very different way to Lestrange- where Lestrange would be fast and rough, Tom would be devastatingly slow. Wet, sloppy kisses that would drive Abraxas crazy, hands all over him. Touching Abraxas until he was a whining mess that wanted nothing more than to be slowly fucked. Tom taking just as much as Lestrange, but so deliberately slowly that Abraxas would be begging for him to take it, begging pitifully for it to be over like it was torture. Those thoughts were never too far from his mind.   
But still, he hoped that Lestrange and Tom weren’t whatever he thought they might be, and he wasn’t entirely sure why, but he supposed it had something to with jealousy. The fact that if they were something, it meant Abraxas and them, were not; that left a sour taste in his mouth.   
~  
Whatever hopes he had were obliterated too early. It was five in the morning, the light just starting to filter through the curtains in soft beams, when Lestrange got up, as he usually did. Abraxas hadn’t been waiting for him, but he had been awake, and he couldn’t resist a look at Lestrange.   
He peered through the curtains surrounding the bed at Lestrange’s bed that sat beside his own. Lestrange was standing in his underwear bending over to grab his trousers from under the bed. He was tall and graceful and ever so pretty. Abraxas forced himself to concentrate, and he did until Lestrange turned around. To step into the trousers, he raised a leg and Abraxas had to bite his tongue at the dark, bite-sized bruises that littered Lestrange’s inner thighs.   
Tom on his knees was not a thought Abraxas had had often. He hadn’t dared to dream Tom would be willing to part other people’s legs and do things like that between them. It made him hot just thinking about it, he could almost see Tom sliding to his knees, never taking his eyes off Lestrange, while his mouth did nasty little things that made Abraxas’ head ache and mouth go dry.   
Abraxas tried to be rational. He flicked through all the boys and girls, Lestrange being inclined both ways, to find any of the others who might have done such a thing. But Lestrange had never shown the slightest bit of interest in anyone aside Tom, and perhaps Parkinson, but recently they’d fallen out over something neither of them would share with anyone else.  
~  
Abraxas looked out more vigilantly after that, and the more he looked, the more he saw. He was in the library, it was late afternoon and a golden glow streamed through the tall windows, a calm stillness floated through the air when Abraxas heard them, the gentle lilt of Lestrange’s voice.   
He was relatively close to Tom’s second-home of the restricted section, so he peered through the slight gap in the shelves. Tom and Lestrange were sitting so close their knees touched whilst reading something. Lestrange’s fingers caressed Tom’s hair, swirling strands between his fingers. Tom’s fingers drew circles on Lestrange’s thigh. Presently, Lestrange glanced behind him, and when there appeared to be no one, he tilted his head and kissed Tom. It was languorous, and lazy, and obscene the way Lestrange moved his jaw and worked his lips. Indulging himself in a drowsy, dreamy kind of way. Worse though was the way Lestrange smiled into kisses like he was actually in love. Abraxas very much doubted he was and was certain Tom knew this.  
In the stillness, they seemed so calm, so indolent, so pretty and so sickening. Abraxas couldn’t help but see himself in each of their places or even with both of them. Feel their lips brush against his own, their hands on his neck, their fingers pulling his hair, their eyes burning holes in his facade. He could almost feel the soft violence in their touches and he wanted it so much.   
Abraxas didn’t want to watch but he was feeling petty, so he pushed the books on the shelf. A long line of books fell on their side with a thud. Tom and Lestrange sprung apart to a respectable distance, Tom had his wand drawn and scanned the immediate area. His gaze found no one.   
“It was probably Avery’s useless owl, getting lost again,” said Lestrange as he too looked around, “nevertheless, I’d say we should finish this in your –”  
“No. There’s only one chapter left, we’ll finish it, then meet the others. You can ask Avery about his owl then.”  
Lestrange looked at Tom before nodding and coming closer to finish the chapter. They didn’t sit so intimately this time, and their hands stayed respectfully on the table.   
Abraxas left.


	2. A sacred sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraxas takes what isn't his

Abraxas couldn’t sleep, not when Lestrange and his dishonest thighs lay so close by. So, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his bed. His thoughts wandered to Tom, as they usually did.   
Tom who had always rebuked any sort of advance, however friendly. Tom who had never been interested in doing anything with anyone. Tom who barely even smiled unless he knew it would get him something. That Tom seemed different to the one in the library, the one who kissed Lestrange so tenderly and drew pretty patterns on his thighs. Tom had always been different, and Abraxas supposed he still was, he just didn’t really know why.   
As sleepiness surrounded him Tom blurred and, in his place, stood Lestrange. Lestrange who had shadows in his face and shadows in his heart. Lestrange who sat sultry in the common room. Lestrange who made intelligence stupidly sexy.   
Some part of him wanted Lestrange, and some part of him didn’t want Lestrange to have Tom. In the darkness, half asleep, Abraxas couldn’t see why he couldn’t have Lestrange, after all that would kill two birds with one stone: he would get Lestrange, and Tom would thus lose Lestrange because Tom would never touch anyone who abandoned him so frivolously.   
~  
They were sitting together in the common room, everyone apart from Tom, who had private potions tuition, so Abraxas took the opportunity to sit closer than usual to Lestrange. The latter raised an eyebrow to Abraxas’ decision but said nothing.   
He said nothing when Abraxas’ hand scraped across his shoulders with the pretext of reaching for a book and said nothing when Abraxas dragged his eyes across him and bit his lip.   
Lestrange said nothing, a lot.   
He didn’t question the way Abraxas always rearranged his hair when he was there, although Abraxas knew he was watching. He didn’t query Abraxas taking forever to get dressed in the mornings, or the way he stretched in ways that showed off everything he had.   
He didn’t question Abraxas’ flirty glances, provocative conversations or inappropriate suggestions. He nodded, smirked, smiled or stayed silent. But he never returned the compliment, never gave into the need that Abraxas felt was consuming him.   
~  
In the great hall during the afternoon study hours, when most of the others had classes or girls or other ways to while away the time, Abraxas sat with Lestrange. They were accompanied by Black and Avery, who sat across the table and mostly wrote their essays quietly except for the occasional question that Lestrange casually answered.   
Abraxas let his fingers drift, his arm had several times collided with Lestrange’s causing hissed swearing and Lestrange starting his essay again. Abraxas’ fingers drifted below the table. Black and Avery didn’t notice, he doubted whether Lestrange noticed.   
He placed his hand on Lestrange’s knee. The latter tensed and turned to Abraxas. His eyes flicked between the hand and Abraxas’ face. Abraxas held his gaze and slid his hand higher, caressing Lestrange’s thigh.  
Lestrange stood up, “excuse me,” he said leaving the room.   
Black and Avery stared questioningly at Abraxas who just shrugged, “I’ll go after him, see if he’s all right.”  
Abraxas got up and headed the way Lestrange had gone. Almost as soon as he was out of the hall, he was pulled into an alcove.   
“What do you want, Malfoy?” said Lestrange, with more than a hint of venom colouring his tone.   
“Nothing.”  
“Yeah, right. Your hand just wandered over to my knee without the rest of you having any knowledge of it.”  
“It was actually your thigh,” said Abraxas letting his hand drop against Lestrange’s thigh again. Lestrange tensed. “What are you doing?” he said, although his voice had lost the conviction of a few seconds earlier.   
“You can tell me to stop at any time,” said Abraxas his hand palming Lestrange through his trousers. Abraxas’ heart was pounding as he watched Lestrange relax just a little bit; he chewed on his lip and let his eyes flutter shut, his breathing becoming unsteady. There was a serenity on his face that Abraxas rarely saw, though it suited him. Away from the prying eyes, the fears of being caught were gone and Lestrange almost seemed interested.   
The sound of footsteps shattered the illusion, “stop it now,” said Lestrange, his eyes snapping open.   
Abraxas stopped but grinned, “you know, you could have me any way you like, any time you want, anywhere you fancy. Would you like that?”  
Lestrange’s answer was to push him aside and walk out into the corridor.   
Abraxas stayed in the alcove, the rough stone was cool against his neck, and was a nice contrast to the heavy pounding of his pulse.   
There had been a flicker, no, more than a flicker of attraction from Lestrange. It had been a hot heady mixture of want and guilt, that still fogged the air, making it difficult to breathe.   
There was something so satisfying in watching Lestrange get tangled in desire, hungry for whatever Abraxas was offering whilst trying to rationalise his allegiance to Tom. It made Abraxas laugh, that someone as in control of their life as Lestrange was facing an imminent existential collapse because of him.  
All he had to do now was wait for Lestrange to lose that last piece of restraint and come back for what he so obviously craved.   
~  
Lestrange had more self-control than Abraxas had realised. He avoided him at all cost. The others began to notice that when Abraxas sat down, Lestrange would leave or at least move to the other side of the room. They wouldn’t look at each other, much less talk, and never touch.   
It stayed that way until Lestrange came back to the dormitory early. He was irritable, you could see it in the way the air buzzed around him. He was annoyed about something or with someone.   
“Lestrange?”  
“Malfoy? What are you doing in here?”  
“Free period, what about you? I thought you had quidditch practise?”  
“I did, until that motherfucking cunt of Gryffindor – oh it doesn’t matter, where’s Tom?”  
“Still in class, I imagine. You could wait for him here.”  
Lestrange looked at him, he was sceptical but at the same time, he had an energy that needed to be dissipated, alone he wouldn’t settle, he would be on edge and it would drive him crazy.   
“I needed to talk to you anyway,” said Abraxas,  
“About what?”  
“Oh, I think you know what,” said Abraxas leaning back. His trousers were too low on his lips and his shirt untucked, it was just enough to spark the imagination, enough to get Lestrange interested, and combined with his current impatience, it might just be enough to make him impulsive, reckless, careless.   
Lestrange sat beside him on the bed, “what exactly?”  
~  
The first kiss was gentle, much more so than Abraxas had expected. Lestrange’s mouth was so slow and filled with a nostalgic yearning. His fingers gripped Abraxas like he was looking for salvation, and if that was what he wanted, that was what Abraxas would give him. The chance to confess his sins, and free his soul. But if Lestrange was just a tainted angel, what did that make Tom?  
Lestrange whined, lips hot, fingers cold. Hands twisted into Abraxas’ hair. Cherry lips, scrunched eyes, pleads falling from his mouth. His moans said more than his tongue ever could: how much he wanted touches, kisses, connections; his skin against someone else’s, his mouth against some other mouth. Abraxas wasn’t sure if Lestrange wanted him or just wanted someone.   
Two of Abraxas’ fingers grazing a spot deep inside him was all it took to reduce Lestrange to rawest existence: moans and whines, whimpers and sobs. Lestrange’s dry lips kissed his neck, tempting Abraxas to drown with him in pleasure, and Abraxas nearly did. He would have given himself entirely if the door hadn’t opened.   
Tom watched from the doorway, eyes coldly surveying the scene. Abraxas couldn’t help smirking as he leaned down to kiss Lestrange, whose shut eyes remained oblivious to the intrusion.   
He expected Tom to go, to be so insulted that to look another moment be sickening, but Tom didn’t leave, he didn’t even shut the door. Instead, he folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching.  
Abraxas could feel the blistering scorch of his gaze, but he could also hear the mellifluous whimpers of Lestrange, his hand trembling on Abraxas’ neck. He was so close, shaking with need, lips speaking a silent prayer. Abraxas glanced at Tom before wrapping his hand around Lestrange’s cock and coaxing him with soft little words. When Lestrange came, Tom left, closing the door behind him.   
~  
Tom sat in the common room alone. Abraxas would have missed him if he hadn’t looked up, hadn’t beckoned them over.   
Abraxas sat opposite unable to hide his satisfied smirk. Lestrange sat beside Tom. Abraxas was surprised that Tom let him get that close, surely every inch of Lestrange would be disgusting if that lovely face could ever be disgusting.   
“Where were you this afternoon?” said Tom, his question addressed only Lestrange. The latter looked up.  
“Does it matter where I was?”  
“It’s a simple question, Lestrange.”  
Lestrange shrugged, “I was in the dormitory, with Malfoy, if you must know.”  
“Humour me, Lestrange, what were you doing with our friend Malfoy?”  
Lestrange paused.   
“Come on, Lestrange. No words? No elaborate story? No lie?”  
Lestrange set his features into the steely mask of pleasantries Abraxas had seen him use countless times at family functions. “I said I would never lie to you.”  
“I don’t remember you saying that. I always thought you never lied because I always knew when you were.”  
Lestrange leaned closer, “and I always know when you’re lying.”  
“Your point?”  
“You know exactly what I’ve been doing all afternoon.”  
They were both silent, surveying each other looking for an indication of how the other was going to react. Abraxas sat quietly, so what if he had caused the trouble, it hadn’t meant he wanted to witness it.   
“Go away, Lestrange, I want to have a word with Malfoy,” sensing a question on his lips Tom continued, “do whatever you want later, Lestrange, just don’t plan to do it with me.”  
Lestrange walked out, he didn’t stop and didn’t look back. Abraxas stood up in respect, some sort of pureblood tradition still ingrained in him.   
Tom stood up also and turned to Abraxas, slowly he advanced. Abraxas stayed standing, he would much rather face Tom on his feet.   
Tom stood close, too close and still he advanced, Abraxas sat down. He looked up at Tom who leaned over him like a shadow.   
He smirked. “I’d like an explanation, Abraxas.”  
“For what?”   
Tom continued to smile, “an explanation as to why you were doing that to Lestrange.”  
Abraxas stayed silent.   
“I could guess if you like. Perhaps you wanted him as you want so many pretty things, Abraxas. Or perhaps you wanted to get at me. Wanted to find a way, anyway, to irritate me. Now, I have to wonder why you would want to do that, Abraxas?”  
Abraxas swallowed and looked up at Tom, he knew he should be formulating a decent excuse, but Tom looked so very pretty at this angle. His freckles like inverted stars painted across a peach sky. He was beautiful; dark eyes somehow darker, his whole being more intense than yesterday, than this morning, even this afternoon. He was like a storm, slowly brooding, gathering power, passion, greatness before unleashing it on some poor and wholly inadequate force.   
“Are you listening, Abraxas?”  
Abraxas nodded.   
Realisation flooded Tom’s face and his grin widened, “do you like this, Abraxas?” Tom stroked a hand down Abraxas’ face, fingers settling between his collarbones. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, you’re so busy aching for me.”  
Tom pressed his fingers against the hollow at Abraxas’ neck. Abraxas felt his throat tightening. “You like pain, at least you think you do. Have you got fantasies, Abraxas? Filthy, immoral fantasies. Do they involve me or Lestrange, or perhaps both of us? Do you want to give me control? Let me do things you’d be ashamed to tell anyone about?”  
Tom released his fingers and Abraxas inhaled sharply. He panted and crossed his legs, Tom forced them apart and kneeled between them, eyes fixed on Abraxas’ own.   
“You want me, and you want me to do such filthy things to you. I bet you’d be the only willing victim of the Cruciatus curse, wouldn’t you? Do you have any idea how much it hurts, that liquid agony down your spine, penetrating every nerve of your body, until you’re sobbing, crying out for it to stop? Is that what you want me to do to you, Abraxas?”  
Abraxas whimpered, his head filled with images of what Tom could do to him, should he want, he’d seen the nasty things Tom could do when he wanted. However much he tried to hide it, there was no disguising how much Abraxas desired Tom.   
“It’s not just the pain though, is it?” said Tom, his hot breath ghosting across Abraxas’ lap, “no, what you want is a complete loss of control. You need to be weak, powerless, completely at my mercy. You didn’t get what you wanted from Lestrange, you wanted him hot against you, you wanted him to be rough, nails at your skin, teeth against that pretty neck. You wanted him in so many ways and he was none of them. Too slow, too needy, too exhausted, too much like yourself.”  
Abraxas moaned, Tom stood up.   
“Now that I have your attention. Don’t touch my things, Abraxas. Don’t touch them, don’t kiss them, don’t fuck them, because I promise you I can ruin you in ways you can only dream of.”   
Tom leaned forward, his tongue on Abraxas’ neck, Abraxas’ pulse throbbed harder.   
“I will not hesitate to touch you until you’re so desperate you’re willing to do anything, fuck you until you feel nothing but me, until you can’t live without me every second of every day, until you are hooked on my scent and addicted to my body, until you can’t live without me, Abraxas. I would love to break a Malfoy.”  
Tom glared at him and left. Abraxas stayed, his head tipped back, panting heavily and with images of Tom seared into his memory.


	3. What you've done to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraxas finally gets what he wants

Abraxas glared at them. Tom and Lestrange were sitting closer than usual, so close the others must have noticed, not just their closeness but the way they looked at each other. It was so obvious Abraxas would guess the others were just choosing to ignore it, perhaps they knew better than to interfere with whatever their leader did.  
Ever since he’d done what he did, they were making it more and more obvious. Hands lingering longer, Tom’s fingers forever on Lestrange’s thighs, and that smug little smile from Lestrange was utterly insufferable. Abraxas was becoming convinced Lestrange had known exactly what he was doing, had known exactly how to get him wound up, how to get him into this situation.  
Abraxas resolved not to look and spent all his time fiddling with his nails, cleaning each one meticulously and never looking up, no matter how much he wanted to. If he didn’t look at them then perhaps the feeling would recede.  
From the corner of his eye, he saw the others rise, he joined them intending to file out to the dormitory and continue ignoring them until the problem disappeared and he was a free man. It was the perfect plan until Lestrange grabbed his wrist.  
“Fuck off Lestrange,” he said trying to pull away.  
“What a filthy mouth, Abraxas,” said Tom, “we were only wondering if you would join us tomorrow, to study. You have a free period, don’t you?”  
Abraxas nodded. The way Tom said it suggested that it was a compulsory invitation. “Where?”  
“Library, say five, you’ll be there, won’t you, Abraxas?”  
“Yeah,” he said leaving the room, not bothering to look back and see their smug faces. No one who was anyone said no to Tom, it just wasn’t the done thing. At least it wasn’t the done thing if you wanted to maintain your place in the inner circle, and Abraxas needed more than wanted to keep his place.  
~  
They were already there when Abraxas arrived. Sitting together at a friendly distance. Abraxas sat on the spare seat the other side of the table and got out his books. It couldn’t be too bad just studying with them, could it?  
Apparently, it could. As soon as Abraxas had started his essay, Lestrange shifted, just a tiny bit towards Tom. His hands wandering to places they shouldn’t be. Abraxas ignored them, he was here to study, not to gawk.  
He heard rather than saw whatever Tom did in return. Lestrange’s sharp intake of breath was obvious to anyone, and Abraxas had made the mistake of looking up. Tom smirked, he was too close to Lestrange for them to be doing anything innocent together.  
Now they had his attention, Tom simpered at him in that dirty way before kneeling before Lestrange. Abraxas felt his mouth go dry. He couldn’t see Tom, aside for a few loose curls, but he could guess what he was doing. Doing very well if Lestrange’s deep exhales were anything to go by. Lestrange looked – at ease, humoured, mouth forming words that were lost instantly. He tilted his head back a little, smiling; eyes remaining open to look at Abraxas, searching for the reaction he wanted, the one Abraxas was determined not to give him.  
Part of Abraxas was screaming at him to get back to writing, to ignore them as he had been doing, but the rest of him couldn’t take his eyes of Lestrange’s mouth. It was so pink and plush, bitten red by his own white teeth, it was indecent the way he swallowed, and the way he chewed that lip.  
The rosy flush on his cheekbones. The way he clenched his fist but kept his hands firmly on the table. The simple movements, however unsensual, had Abraxas blushing, his heart racing. The seconds lasted for hours like the world had slowed to a crawl to allow Abraxas to see everything in devasting clarity. He saw the way Lestrange tipped his head forward, hair falling in his eyes, he saw the sheen of sweat so obvious in the golden sunlight, he saw how it made the roots of his hair damp. He heard the delicate half-moans Lestrange tried to choke back, and he heard those needy whispers no one but Lestrange could understand. He saw Lestrange scrunch his hand on the desk, arm trembling, want smeared all over him. He watched Lestrange shudder in the same way he had the other day, eyes squeezed shut, a thousand emotions swamping his features. A long whine leaving his mouth, it seemed so obvious Abraxas felt obliged to cover it with a cough.  
Lestrange slumped forward, spine curved, breathing heavy, hand grounding himself. Tom returned to his seat and wiped his hand across his mouth, “is something distracting you, Abraxas?”  
Abraxas stood up, he needed a cold shower and time to re-evaluate his position. He satisfied himself with scowling at Tom and left them.  
He ignored the low snigger of Lestrange behind him. He knew he really had to stop running from this problem, it wouldn’t be what he father wanted. Well, none of this would be what his father wanted to be honest, but him being a coward, that just made everything worse. As he stalked away he resolved, the next time they did something, he would react, he just had to work out how.  
~  
He got to test his new resolve earlier than expected. Lestrange and Tom cornered him after Potions. They both had that dangerous look in their eyes, the one Abraxas wasn’t sure if he loved or loathed. He felt an uncomfortable mixture of anticipation and anxiety twisting his stomach as Tom came to walk on his right, and Lestrange on his left. After checking no one was with them, Lestrange had wound his arm around Abraxas’ waist, fingers latching onto his ribs. Tom didn’t touch him, only walked beside him, not even bothering to look at Abraxas.  
He did not like to be led by anyone, but especially not by these two, it made him nervous to think what they were going to propose and where they were going to propose it. But he also knew he couldn’t say ‘no’, not if they had something in mind, not if he wanted to remain secured as their equal, a position he knew was already unstable. Tom had thrown him off balance, no longer could he get whatever he wanted with money, now he had to work for his place, as did Lestrange. But Lestrange seemed to have adapted to this new terrain far easier, at least if what he had witnessed was anything to go by.  
“Have you got anything to do today, Abraxas?” said Tom. He was immediately suspicious, Tom never asked genuine questions, he only asked what he already knew.  
“You know I don’t,” he said cautiously,  
“Care to come with us then?” said Lestrange, his hands drifting lower to fit across Abraxas’ hips. He could hear Tom’s words coming from Lestrange’s mouth, it wasn’t a question.  
“Why?”  
“Why do you think?” said Tom, his voice closer to his ear, although Abraxas refused to give him the satisfaction of turning and acknowledging him.  
“We know you want to,” murmured Lestrange, his lips soft against the helix of his ear. Abraxas chewed his lip and didn’t give them an answer. He wouldn’t have given them one at all if Tom’s hand hadn’t scraped along his thigh. He stopped, Tom and Lestrange did as well, Tom’s hand not leaving his thigh. “You’re very needy Abraxas, but Lestrange says you’re a good fuck, so you’d better be nice to him because I can assure you, what I wanted to do to you was far less enjoyable.”  
Abraxas swallowed, not sure whether to be reassured or more worried, by Tom’s confession.  
“So,” said Lestrange, his voice cutting through the heavy air, “care to come with us?”  
Abraxas nodded, it was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? This problematic situation stemmed from him watching them and wanting what wasn’t his.  
~  
He’d never been in Tom’s private room, it was nice, spacious, warm. Perfectly pleasant, more than pleasant, when he factored in Tom on his right and Lestrange on his left. They were just sitting together on the bed, shoes and robes discarded by the door.  
Abraxas didn’t know what to do with his hands, so they sat awkwardly in his lap. Lestrange’s fingers were gently weaving through his hair and Tom was drawing those pretty patterns on his thighs. It all felt somehow too intimate without being intimate at all. They weren’t doing anything inappropriate and yet Abraxas felt hot and awkward, a craving for something more flowing too close to the surface.  
It seemed like an eternity before Tom leaned over him and took Lestrange’s mouth against his own. Abraxas had never been so close to a kiss he wasn’t involved in, and they were so close to him, so very close, and so very perfect. He was torn between wanting to watch the movement of their lips forever and wanting to join them. Tom took his time to kiss Lestrange, jaw lazy, tongue lazier; it was heavy and precise, knowing exactly what to do to turn Lestrange into a whining mess, though all the time his thumb continued to draw those patterns on Abraxas’ thigh as if to remind him he would get his turn.  
Tom was the one to turn to face him, the one to first kiss him, he was just as slow, just as indulgent as he had been with Lestrange and it was perfect, so perfect. Abraxas couldn’t help but kiss him back, taking as much as Tom would give him until Tom pulled away. Abraxas opened his eyes, lips still parted, already missing Tom’s lips against his own. He didn’t have to wait long though before Lestrange took over. Kissing Lestrange was different, he was rougher, faster, not afraid to use his teeth or his tongue. Lestrange was a wild ride, always twisting, turning, so slick and then so sloppy. Never allowing him to catch his breath or get his bearings, filling his world with nothing but him. He was breathless and groaning and aching for more when Lestrange finally pulled away.  
Abraxas let them manhandle him, pull him how they wanted him until he was reclined, back against Tom, Lestrange between his thighs. Lestrange was too good with his tongue, swirling, sucking, swallowing until Abraxas was clutching at the sheets and making such obscene sounds. His hips were shaking but Tom held him still, tongue against his neck. Gradually, Tom’s soft kisses became bites that both of them knew Abraxas couldn’t hide. He couldn’t help but twist his neck, get Tom’s lips against his own. Tom’s hands explored his bare waist, his hips, his soft thighs; scratching, kneading, pressing white fingerprints into his skin. Lestrange’s hands joined them; overwhelming him. Apart they were desirable but together, they were completely irresistible. Their hands gripping Abraxas, slipping across every inch of his skin, tracing every sinew, every bone until he was begging for them to touch him in all the right places.  
When Lestrange fucked him, his hands tangled in his dark hair, breathing rapid and exhausting and loud enough that anyone would know what they were doing. He couldn’t help but tip his head back, knowing he looked irresistible when he was sheened with sweat and begging them for whatever they wanted to give him. He couldn’t help but gulp and gasp and groan, loving Lestrange’s roughness, his coarseness, sharp edges cutting him open and letting Tom feast on his wanting. Loving how desperate and hot and sweaty Lestrange was. The way his mouth trembled against his neck, the way his hands shake and the long whines he can never stop. The way he raised his head and stole kisses from Tom’s lips.  
Abraxas shut his eyes and let himself be overcome with the slick sliding sounds of mouths skimming over each other, overcome with Lestrange’s long low moans and Tom’s tense breaths. Overwhelmed just by the idea that two pairs of glossy eyes were watching his every move, were enjoying his body as much as he was enjoying theirs. Overwhelmed by the pants and shudders of frantic pleasure, contrasting so sharply to the raw stillness of being fucked so persuasively, letting them take anything they wanted, just hoping he was interesting enough that they would want him again.  
He moaned as Lestrange rocked his hips and Tom wrapped his hand around his cock all the while whispering absolute filth in his ear; indecent things about what Lestrange liked, dirty immoral things that made his mouth dry just thinking about them.  
He came to Tom’s obscene words and Lestrange’s long whines and their incessant hands all over him. He was too hot, lying there trying to catch his breath, watching, feeling, loving the way Lestrange cracked, finally overpowered by that desire that consumed both of them.  
~  
Lying on his back between them, Abraxas felt calm for the first time since he’d seen them together, he was finally back in control. Lying there then He didn’t mind Lestrange kissing Tom above him because Tom was tracing patterns along his sternum. He and Lestrange were equals now, neither of them entirely had Tom, instead, they circled him together, like the planets circling the sun.  
He would never admit how much he liked them both, liked how they looked together, liked when they both leaned towards him. Abraxas had never kissed two people at the same time, but it was nice. He still had fantasies, more vivid that they had ever been before, visions of what he wanted, what could now become a reality, at least for Lestrange. He turned to look at Tom. There were so many things he wanted to do with Tom, and maybe one day soon Tom would let him do them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I apologise profusely for this having taken me so long to actually finish, sorry. I also apologise for the ending, I wasn't sure where to go without adding another chapter, so sorry for that. I hope this is ok.

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive my minor obsession with Lestrange Sr.


End file.
